#all of these drawings took up 4 whole pages in my sketchbook god damn

[thelostmoongazer]

@circateas was saying how their announcer oc (Mic), before he was the announcer for the cup bros, was one for King Dices casino for their occasional boxing matches that would take place in there. Well, because of this, Teas explained that Mic knows a thing or two about kickin some ass in case he needs to break up an unfair or dirty fight. 

SO I THOUGHT

what if Mic would volenteer in the ring from time to time :^)c

[iwaasfairy]

fairy!! u said u got better w/ ur art when u started using a sketchbook (& that atsuko doodle looks amazing—i aspire to be @ that level of art atm), but what do u practice/how do u choose? i've been sittin here starin @ these blank pages & the aol dial up ringin in my empty brain like 🙂 pls help and lend some of ur beautiful brain cells

omg this is so sweet i'm glad my dumb little revelation might've inspired you to practice too :< but oMG so that was a whole thing because i'm,,, im kinda an organization freak when it comes to this kind of stuff so i had this whole pinterest board with all kinds of stuff i wanted to do/draw/learn, but because by the time i sat myself down to actually do anything about it that board had like 1500 pins, that wasn't exactly encouraging me to start

so i went through it and kinda tried to make groups of things i wanted to get much better at. i think mine were 1) clothing & folds 2) poses 3) bodies in perspective 4) buildings 5) actual perspective (like 3 point and fish eye lenses n things) 6) characters interacting 7) complex anatomy and 8) environments. the groups were still pretty god damn big so i challenged myself to make "days" in my sketchbook with ten pins per day, going from something i think will be pretty easy to more complex things

and i gave myself about 7 days or 7 sets per topic with a few days of random stuff in between that wasn't an actual topic i was studying like,,, getting to draw teetfies or eyes or expressions (things i already enjoy and feel comfortable drawing). to be clear, i was MASSIVELY overconfident in my idea that i could draw 10 of my reference pins a day in the beginning, because i think that first "week" of pins took me more like two months to finish, but that's not really the point. i was already happy to be filling pages and studying a thing

and now i can actually do most of the pins i saved for that day in one day, so it's super satisfying trucking along through all my references i've been meaning to do smt with for the last 3 years! i'd recommend doing the same thing if you have a similar sort of collection board w all these pictures because you know best what you want to improve in, but i guess i could always make mine public if you'd like <333

[seokiloquy]

Bruised Ink - Kageyama Tobio

Soulmate AU: When you write on your skin it appears in the same spot on your soulmates body

Requested (though I changed it a bit to keep it as canon as possible)

Tags/Warnings: GN!Reader, Kageyama being a bit of an airhead, mild swearing

Word Count: 1.7K+

Art club, morning, lunch, and after school. Though admittedly your art club supervisor / English teacher didn’t enjoy seeing an eager face so early in the morning. She, over a matter of days, had gotten used to your silent presence in the corner of the art room as she worked on papers, occasionally asking for your opinion on a topic. 

“See you after school!” you called down the hall, before waving to your aforementioned supervisor who was talking to the art teacher in the corner.

You flicked your uniform jacket off, letting it hang off the top of a chair as you ran to your canvas. The clean paint brushes waited patiently next to the progressing piece of art and your pallet rested next to them, mummified and waiting to let it’s paints feel the air again. You delicately picked at the tape wrapped around the pallet, pulling it off to reveal the chemical smell of acrylics.

You gazed at your painting for a moment, admiring the contrasting muted colours that blended nicely into the slowly fading background. Taking a brush, no larger than the width of your pinky, you reached for a vibrant green and royal blue, ready to dollop small portions onto your pallet. You huffed through your nose as a clump of blue stuck to your fingers. With no paper towel in sight, you kept your mouth shut and rubbed the paint against the back of your opposite arm. 

“You’re going to stain your skin,” your teacher huffed behind you as she walked to her desk, brushing a free hand through her bob cut. “It looks almost like a bad bruise.”

You sighed, picking up your pallet and brush, gently working the bright teal colour you mixed into the layers of your canvas. “Maybe, but if I’m lucky it’ll be gone before any of the other teachers notice just like every other time.”

She gave you a quirked brow sliding into your spinning chair that was tucked into the corner of the room. She grabbed a pen with one hand and sipped on her coffee mug with the other. “What do you mean by that?”

You laughed. “Every time I doodle, draw, paint, or just anything on my skin whatsoever, it’s gone before I see it again.” 

“So your soulmate’s washing it off before class?” she hummed, turning her eyes away from your blocked-out painting and onto the sheets before her.

“I don’t have a tattoo or a red string, so most likely, ya. They probably don’t want to get in trouble. Or maybe they’re in a swim club and don’t even notice it?”

Chuckling she looked up but kept her head down, gifting you the sight of a mischievous look. “Or they could be sweating it all off.”

“How often does a person sweat to get rid of that much ink on a daily basis?”

“There are some dedicated athletes out there.” She shrugged, rubbing the golden tattoo on the back of her hand. “Then again, all soulmate connections are a bit different.

Humming, you turned back to your painting that leaned against the wall. “What are you working on this morning, Ms. Ono?”

Behind you, a page flipped followed by a groan. “First-year English.”

“First-year? I thought you taught second-year English?”

“I did for Sugawara’s class, but I usually teach the first-year.”

You pushed your brush into the canvas a little harder. “Damn, I thought I would get to be in your class.”

“Sorry, kiddo, but you wouldn’t be in my English class anyway. But your Japanese is improving!”

You huffed through your nose. “I’d hope so, the Sugawara’s really aren’t giving me a break.” You studied your canvas and took a step back, looking at how the light bounced off the surface and made the teal look with the less saturated colours.

“Good on them.”

“Don’t encourage it!”

“Kageyama, what happened to your arm?”

The boy’s grown out bowl cut swished as he flipped his arms around turning his head in search before eventually finding the offending colour that had spread into his skin. Twisting his arm, he gave the colour an indecisive look, before poking it his index finger. “Must be a bruise. Probably smacked it when we were setting up the net. Doesn’t hurt though. So hurry up, let’s get started.”

“Why does everyone have to get to school so early,” Sugawara mumbled to himself, pushing the door to the gym open as he ruffled his hair. He spoke louder, “Tanaka, can’t you stop these two?”

“Sorry, dude. But I’m having fun with this. Why are you here so early anyway?”

Sugawara sat down in the doorway, changing his shoes and rolling off his uniform pants to reveal his loose shorts for practice. “(Y/N) has been coming to school early to paint. And my parents said ‘they’ll get lost, you go too’ instead of ‘no, sleep a little longer.’” 

Tanaka huffed through his nose, “Has (L/N) been settling in well?”

“Oh ya. Eichi loves the new company. But now I have to keep up with essentially two siblings instead of one and these two idiots.” The silver-haired boy yawned as he gestured at the two first years that yelled at each other while throwing balls into the air.

Tanaka gets out a gruff chuckle before running into the centre of the gym to join the duo with endless energy.

“Gone again,” you mumbled as you slowly packed up the bento box that Koushi’s mom had prepared for you.

Your arm, which had been covered in paint stains and ink marks across the whole colour spectrum, had been wiped clean. No doubt the work of your soulmate and whatever activity they partook in during their free time. 

Grumbling, you took out your white ink pen and doodled a subtle frowning face on the inner crease of your wrist.

Ms. Ono rose from her seat, patting away invisible dirt that clung to her dark pencil skirt as the warning bell sounded through the speaker system. “Alright, (L/N). I have a class to teach, out you get.” She shuffled hat stacked papers in her hand, pausing for a moment as a look of realization was thrown onto her face. “Oh and, there won’t be art club this evening, so tell the other members too.”

“What? but that’s the best part of my day!”

“Sorry, (L/N) but I can’t be in here all the time.”

You whined, following the English teacher out of the room. Mr. Sato, the art head, walked into the paint-filled classroom as you left. You both gave him a friendly nod, before continuing with your conversation. “What can I do then? I’m not allowed to go home alone.”

Ms. Ono hummed, “Why don’t you sit in on Sugawara’s volleyball practice, you can use it as a figure study and sketch in your notebook.”

“I guess that’s not a bad idea.”

“Well, there you go. Alright, get, to class or you’ll be late.” She stepped into her sunlit classroom, walking straight for her desk with clicking heels.

You left the entryway of class 1-1’s homeroom and started making your way down the hall to your own room in class 1-4. As you weaved through the crowded hall of first years you kept your head up, looking for the nearest tunnel of space, only to get locked against the wall staring into the eyes of an intense schoolmate you were unaware of.

“Uh sorry,” you mumbled, looking away from his pinched brow and sharp eyes that only held your gaze for a moment.

He raised a brow, looking down the hall behind you to his classroom. Saying nothing, he huffed and schooled his expression. Placing the opposite hand on your shoulder, he spun your body to be behind him, switching locations, and continued down the hall. You watched his flat black hair bounce as he turned into class 1-3’s room.

“Well, isn’t he sweaty,” you mumbled to yourself as you made the last few steps into your classroom.

“Koushi, Koushi, Koushi. Are you sure it’s okay for me to sit in?”

“Just don’t encourage any foolishness and it should be fine. We still have to practice.”

You nodded, following your homestay as he led you to his club’s gym, rambling about his teammates.

“Ah, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi? They’re in my class. I didn’t know they played volleyball.”

“Do you talk to them?”

“No sir, I do not think Tsukishima's intimidating.”

Sugawara led you to the side where their manager stood, speaking with one of the teachers you had seen running around the school, you bowed silently as Sugawara quickly gave an introduction and ran off to change his shoes and clothes.

The group had an easy time ignoring your presence as you sat on the metal bench, flipping coloured pens between your fingers. Rough doodles filled the page as messily scribbled outlines took the form of the players you saw before you. Some were stretched out in the air while others dove to the ground in elegant swoops. 

Your pen skidded across the paper.

“Damn,” you muttered, lifting the tip and forcing it into the papers again. Nothing.

Twirling the ink-filled tool between your fingers you shifted the sketchbook off your lap and taking the pen to the surface of your skin.

The ink skidded, leaving uneven marks in an indecipherable pattern along the surface of your skin before running dry. You reached for another pen, only for the result to repeat. You grabbed another, and another. The pattern continued, pushing and pulling, dragging the fine tips as they slowly began to cover the entire surface of the back of your hand in every colour including your white ink, which luckily still worked fine and contrasted brilliantly with the muddied mess on your hand.

You huffed out a quiet cheer of success, finding that a majority of your pens worked fine, and placed the forgotten book back into your lap, coloured pages ready to be drawn over with your trusty series of pens.

“Yo, Kageyama. Is that another bruise?”

God this one is vague as hell but I didn’t have to brainpower to make it any more decipherable. 

It was originally requested that the reader be Sugawara’s little sibling but he only canonically has a little brother, not everyone physically looks like Sugawara, and the adoption trope is meh to me. So I went with a foreign exchange student that is being housed by his family. (if you couldn’t tell)

This au, in particular, is very hard because we try to keep our character (being Y/N) physically ambiguous for the purpose of allowing everybody to enjoy reading it. This au very much panders to those with lighter skin, so I apologize if I didn’t make it as open as I could’ve and please let me know if there are ways I can make this sort of au better. I want everyone to enjoy reading them and not feel excluded.

That’s all, and I hope everyone is healthy and safe. - Bacon

Posted: 06/12/2020

[ivybucky]

soft (s.r)

prompt: it was cold and rainy. it was near perfect. the company of a blond super soldier would make things a whole damn lot better.

A/N: this is literally just to satisfy the mood i’m feeling right now with this weather. i’ve noticed literally all of my steve fics start with s and i dont know how to stop

Current Masterlist

author: abby

words: 1473

pairing: steve rogers x reader

song: in the arms of love - andy williams

“Hey FRIDAY,” you’re muffled call from under your covers sounded to the AI. “What’s my schedule like today?”

“You’re meeting with Captain Rogers has been cancelled and training with Sergeant Barnes is pushed back until he returns from his mission tomorrow. You have a day off, Agent Y/L/N.” You silently thanked whatever gods were out there that you didn’t have to get up at that moment. 

“Perfect. Now, what’s the weather going to be like today?” 

“Thunderstorms started last night and are going to continue well into tomorrow morning. It’s also going to be pretty cold today.”

“So I have nothing to do today AND it’s raining? FRIDAY, open the blinds, and lock my door. I don’t want anyone barging in today.”

“Would you like me notify you when someone is approaching your door?”

After agreeing to that, you continued what you were doing. Relaxing. Rainy days were your favorite, but with your line of work, you hardly ever got to enjoy them. But now a day off presented itself. 

For a few minutes, you just continued to lie in your bed, allowing your body to sink further into your blankets with every deep breath. Your thoughts started wonder and you couldn’t help but think about the blond super soldier who made your day. 

Steve and you had been best friends for a while and recently, you felt your feelings start to change. You acted a bit more shy around him than you did before. He’d been distancing himself and you had begun to see your best friend less and less. And now, while you were glad you had the day off, you felt a little sad your meeting with him had been canceled. That’s when you had a thought. 

“FRIDAY? Did Steve say why the meeting was cancelled?” You pondered. 

“He mentioned to Mr. Stark that he was gonna give you the day off because it was raining.”

You smiled. Steve purposefully knew you’d want to sleep in and relax for once. You grabbed your phone to text him. 

“Can we hang out today? I feel like I haven’t seen in forever.”

“I thought you’d want the day to yourself since it’s raining.”

“For you I can make an exception,” you grinned as you pressed send on your message, letting yourself flirt a little more than you usually would. 

“I’ll be up in a bit.”

You moved out of your bed to put on a record, some smooth old jazz to match with the mood you were feeling today. Feeling the temperature of the room drop due to the weather outside, you put on a sweatshirt you stole from Steve a while back and some fuzzy socks with some soft pajama shorts. You grabbed your sketchbook off your desk and placed it on the brown leather chair placed next to the wall-sized window you had in your room. 

“FRIDAY, let Steve in when he comes.” you called, as you headed into your bathroom to brush your teeth and fix the mop of a bun you had after a night’s sleep. 

Steve knocked and entered the room, taking in the soft mood of the scene before him. The lights were off but the grey light from the day outside was enough to brighten the room. That and the smile you gave when you saw him. 

“Hi Stevie,” you sweetly greeted from your sink drying your face after washing it. You looked down at his hands full with a sketchbook and two mugs. “What’s this?” you questioned.

Steve blushed a little before handing you on of the mugs. “Well, I know it’s pretty cold out and peppermint tea is your favorite.” His hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously. You sighed, taking in the smell of the tea and the warmth in your hands. You looked back up at Steve’s slightly pink face before grinning widely. You cupped his cheek and stood on your toes to give his cheek a peck.

“Thanks Stevie, that’s awfully sweet of you,” you practically sang. His face split into a wide grin matching yours. You pointed to his sketchbook before motioning to the two chairs. “Do you wanna do sketch prompts? I’m in the mood to draw today.”

Steve moved to the paired chair a couple feet away from you and smiled. “I hoped we could do that.” he hummed, setting down his matching mug on the table in between you. 

You plopped down on the soft worn chair and threw your legs over the side, pulling the sketch book into your lap. You reached your hand into a jar that sat on the table in between you, filled with small folded up pieces of paper with sketch ideas on them. After rustling around the papers a little you pulled one out and read it. Your face reddened slightly knowing the topic was seated right in front of you. 

“Uh,” you stumbled. “It says draw something you love.” 

Steve’s cheeks reddened once again, coughing to distract his thoughts. “Hmm, okay.”

Both of your pencils started dancing across the page as began outlining your drawings. You thought back to Steve and took a deep breath knowing that this might be the only time you had enough courage to tell him, even if it was a little indirect. 

You started to sketch a raindrop, slightly smeared across a window, but on a larger scale, much like one of the ones clinging to the window next to you. As your gaze wondered, you noticed a small reflection of Steve across from you in a drop. It was distorted, but it was him. You smiled, inspiration streaking through your mind to your fingers as the mirrored the droplet in front of you. 

As the both of you drew, conversation was here and there, talking about the other Avengers, upcoming holidays, and passing inside jokes. Some of the silence was filled with the both of you humming along with Andy Williams and Fred Astaire, occasionally looking up to admire the other. 

As you finished the details on his face, Steve cleared his throat. You looked up at him, smiling. “I think I’m done,” he said almost shyly. 

“Me too,” you sighed shakily, holding the sketch to your heart, before passing it to him face down. He did the same to you, with almost the same amount of hesitation. You both grinned at each other nervously, before you started counting down.

“One,” you breathed.

“Two.”

“Three,” and you both turned the sketchbooks around. You gasped slightly at the image before you, shaky hand coming up to your lips in shock. 

It was you. Steve had drawn you. From the folds of his sweatshirt, your sock covered calves dangling over the chair, to your furrowed concentrated brow and the loose hairs on the back of your neck and the ones framing your face. You didn’t know you had been biting your lips as you drew. You didn’t know you had been so damn concentrated on your drawing of him to not notice him constantly looking at you. Your face flushed red realizing you’d been caught up in the fact that Steve drew you, that you were something he loved, that you hadn’t seen his reaction. Because you drew him. 

Looking up, Steve’s eyes were already on you, his plump lips parted in shock, with the same red you’ve seen multiple times now dusting his cheeks. Your eyes started watering, unable to turn away now, too full with emotion. 

“Steve,” you whispered. He quickly stood up, letting the sketchbook fall into the chair he once was. The sketchbook your lap fell to the ground shifting to face him. He stepped forward resting his hands on the back of your chair, leaning over you and caging you in, before pressing his lips firmly into yours. 

One of your hands cupped his cheek, while the other fell to the back of his neck, running your fingers through the short soft hair. Your lips moved against each other with so much emotion in them, relief and happiness that you both finally knew how the other felt. His soft lips stole the air from your lungs, but you didn’t care. He could take as much as he wanted. But eventually, you both had to come up for air. 

Out of breath, Steve rested his forehead against yours, grinning widely. You matched it, looking up into his eyes, a breath away from you. He pressed his lips to your forehead, sighing. 

“Thank god,” he chuckled. “It was getting hard trying to stay away from you.” You giggled as he picked you up and sat down in your chair, letting you rest against his chest. You hand cupped his cheek again, bringing his face to yours, noses bumping. 

“I’m never letting you go, now.”

Add yourself to the taglist

Forever Tags: @srgntbarnes, @i-like-tubs, @shamvictoria11, @blaackpanthr, @avengers-do-it-better, @fab-notfat, @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aiolii, @captainrogerss, @sebbies, @seabassbarness, @hdthdthdt, @katzuhira, @ailynalonso15, @nostalgicbex, @conspiracy-teen, @fireismysaftey, @wonderless-screwup, @winchester-gospels-67, @whiyen-has-a-crush, @saltwater-in-the-afternoon, @wooshytooshy, @jjamesbbarness, @i-put-the-bi-in-bifrost, @nanners-the-great, @marvelsundies, @property-of-loki-x, @imagines-4-you-blog, @wizards-magic-and-witches, @alexindahouse , @theglowstickofdestiny, @sobbingforseb, @memory-of-a-goldfish ,@aletheladyinred , @timelordy-fangirl2, @girlwhoisfearless @alexiamiky2003 @thisismysecrethappyplace @silverkitten547 @real-kate-bishop-aka-hawkeye

Steve Tags: @cotidi3morimur, @fruiterias, @goldenkillmonger

[hazellvesque]

Some Kind of Miracle - Chapter 4

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Rating: G

Pairing: Adrien/Marinette

Summary: If Marinette had her way, she would have had nothing to do with Alya’s latest celebrity crush. So how did she get roped into stalking him around Los Angeles? When fashion icon Adrien Agreste quite literally crashes into Marinette’s life, they have no choice but to put up with one another or risk ruining both of their potential careers forever.

An AU based on the iconic Disney Channel Original Movie, Starstruck.

Read on Ao3

Chapter 4 - Destiny

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Marinette’s head was pounding.

The dull ache that had sprouted from the point on contact on her forehead had quickly developed into a full-on migraine. Her vision was so blurred that she felt like she was one misstep away from falling to the floor and never getting back up. Wait, was she even standing up?

“Oh my god!” A male voice shouted. He sounded so far away, she could barely understand him. “Are you okay?”

Marinette opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she groaned loudly and slumped forward directly into the boy’s arms.

“Please tell me you’re not unconscious,” even though he sounded muffled, it was clear he was terrified. He tilted Marinette’s face up to get a better look at her, pointing her towards the light hanging over the door.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried her best to release herself from his grip. “’S too bright,” she muttered.

Closing her eyes definitely helped. She flailed around blindly, double-checking for any missing limbs and realizing that she was indeed already on the ground. The entire world was spinning.

“Oh thank god you’re awake,” the boy’s voice said again.

Slowly but surely, Marinette risked opening her eyes again, and was met with twin images of a teenage boy kneeling in front of her. A couple slow blinks later, and the two sides of her vision merged into one another and-

Okay, maybe she had fallen unconscious, because what she was seeing in front of her couldn’t possibly be real.

It was him. The model. Adrien, Alya’s blog boy - in all his tall, lanky, green-eyed glory - was staring down at Marinette like she had just grown an extra head.

Yes, she was definitely hallucinating. That could explain why it suddenly felt so hot out here.

He was asking her a question, she realized as she snapped herself out of her thoughts. He’d been talking this whole time. Speaking English, Marinette remembered. She had to concentrate hard to understand it all, which was not easy in her current state.

She’d been staring for far too long. “Do you know who I am?” he questioned her.

Marinette shook her head slowly. She had been dazed before, but now she felt like she was on an entirely different planet.

“Can you understand me?” was his next question. Clearly, she looked just as confused as she felt.

“Yes,” Marinette searched her mind for the right English words. Understanding the language was much easier than speaking it. “It’s a little hard, but I hear you.”

“Here, let me help you,” he offered a hand, which she took gladly.

His grip was solid, strong. He felt all too real to be a dream. He was so warm.

This could not be happening.

“I am so sorry,” he continued, staring at her with wide eyes. “I wasn’t watching where I was going, it’s totally my fault. Do you need some water, or an aspirin? Or a hospital?”

His eyes. Wow. They were so green.

“I think I need to sit back down,” she said.

The boy glanced over his shoulder, looking worried. “Well, there’s nothing but hard concrete out here, and I don’t think taking you back into the club would help. All that pounding music can’t be good for your head.”

He was making up excuses, Marinette could tell. Judging by how hard that door had swung and hit her, he had been in a rush to get out of there. What had be been running from?

His eyes lit up suddenly. “I think I know somewhere we can go.”

We can go. Yes, that sounded nice.

“Here, let me get your things,” the boy made sure Marinette was standing steadily before kneeling back down to grab something.

Her heart skipped a beat once she realized what he was reachaing for. During the crash, her backpack had fallen off. Her sketchbook and supplies had spilled out when she fell, and the page had opened right to-

“Oh,” the tiniest hint of a laugh left the boy’s lips. “This is interesting.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Marinette lied. She wished she could muster up the energy to snatch the book from his hands and run away to hide her face in shame for the next two weeks.

He pointed a single finger at the top of the page. “Well, that’s my name, and that-“ his finger trailed down the page, “-looks an awful lot like my face. And I thought you said you didn’t recognize me.”

So that confirmed it then. Not only had mister teen magazine come to life right before her eyes, but he was currently scrutinizing Marinette’s designs with a curious expression on his face.

And still standing so, so close. She took a cautious step backwards, begging the fluttering feeling in her stomach to go away.

“They’re not much,” Marinette began, then immediately regretted it. They were amazing designs. Some of her best work, actually, and she was confident about that much. Why was she acting like this?

It was the head trauma. Yeah, that could explain why she was literally seeing stars, whether her eyes were open or shut. And she could blame the July temperatures for the heat she was feeling all over.

“These are actually really good,” he smiled at her. Even his stupid teeth were perfect, damn him. “You know, I can sign these if you want. As an apology for… you know. Everything. So long as you promise not to sell them online,” he joked.

“I don’t want your autograph,” Marinette said quickly. After realizing how rude she sounded, she continued, “I don’t want to mess up the designs. But thanks for the offer.”

Adrien thought it over for a moment. “I want to make this up to you somehow. How about I run these by my dad’s assistant for you? I’m sure if he looked over him he’d see something he liked.”

An actual famous designer, liking something she made? Or, even better, wanting to help her bring her creations to life? The very idea of it made her feel like she was going to faint.

Suddenly that didn’t seem at all like a far-fetched idea. The pain behind her eyes became so searing it nearly blinded her. She couldn’t help but cry out in pain and reach out to Adrien to support so she wouldn’t fall again. Her entire world tipped sideways as if she were floating, she felt herself falling, her mind went blank, and then, she felt nothing at all.

Of course, this is just what Adrien needed to turn his night from good to great: an unconscious stranger in his arms.

Luckily, the girl didn’t weigh much. Adrien just barely had to tighten his grip to keep her from completely over.

If anyone happened to stroll down this alleyway, they’d stumble upon a very sketchy situation. They’d assume he was robbing her, judging by the way all of her belongings were strewn about. Or they’d notice she was passed out and assume something even worse. He was majorly screwed. How was he going to explain this? Nino and Chloe would be pulling up any minute now.

Unless…

He fished his phone from his back pocket, pressing the first number on speed dial and praying that the call would go through on time. Every buzz of the dial tone increased his fear tenfold until finally, the call clicked through.

“Hey, Adrien, we’re just about to get in the car-“

“DON’T!” Adrien flinched, realizing that it probably wasn’t the best idea to be yelling this loud. He risked a glance at the girl, who was still out cold but thankfully was otherwise unharmed. The reddish bruise on her forehead was reducing in size by the minute. He took another deep breath. “Nino, I need you to come alone.”

Chloe was asking a flurry of questions in the background, no doubt wondering what could have changed so quickly. Nino sounded equally as confused. “Why?” he asked slowly.

“It’s a long story,” Adrien spoke so fast he nearly tripped over his words. “Please. It’s an emergency. I promise I’ll explain everything later, I just need you to trust me.”

Nino was quiet. Too quiet, for far too long.

“I’ll be there in two minutes,” he said finally.

Despite the fact that the girl was still leaning on him, Adrien felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders. Nino ended the call before Adrien could begin gushing about how much of a lifesaver he was. Adrien would never complain about his kitchen raiding again.

Focusing back on the more immediate issue, Adrien lowered the girl back to the ground, resting her against the wall to help her sit up at least semi-straight. Before, the poor girl was downright terrified, and she had had every reason to be. But now she looked positively peaceful, almost as if she were taking a nap.

Her forehead had a small red knot forming, barely visible just underneath her hair. Unless you looked closely, there was no way of knowing that anything was wrong.

A small part of Adrien hoped that she had hit her head so hard that she wouldn’t remember any of this. As selfish as it may be, he was still paranoid that word would spread about his little outing and he’d be done for. And this girl knew who he was, despite her denial, since she’d clearly spent a lot of time drawing him out.

Taking another glance at the girl’s book, Adrien smiled to himself. Sure, there were times where he’d try his best to flatter and compliment to try to network with big names in the business, but his compliments toward the girl were genuine. Adrien bet himself that he could slip some of the drawings into his dad’s office and Gabriel Agreste would be none the wiser; her designs would blend in so well with the other works he had pinned to the walls as part of his ‘artistic musings’, there was a definite chance he really would like something that he saw from her.

“What the hell?” Nino shouted.

Adrien hadn’t even noticed the headlights of the car pull up behind him. Nino jumped from the driver’s seat and raced over, his eyes wide.

His head snapped back and forth between Adrien and the girl. “What did you do?”

“Why are you assuming I did this?” Adrien���s voice cracked.

Nino didn’t believe it for a second.

“Okay fine, I did this,” Adrien tried his best to explain the situation as quickly as he could. Telling the story back was almost as bad as living through it the first time. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Please, please just let this girl be okay.

“So let me get this right,” Nino began, flabbergasted. “You knocked this girl unconscious-“

“I didn’t knock her unconscious,” Adrien defended himself poorly. “I just…bumped into her. With a door. But she was awake a minute ago!”

“So why did she faint?”

“I don’t know Nino, why don’t you ask her? She might have really hurt something, I don’t think its normal to pass out like that from a little bump.”

Nino pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, so after all of that, instead of, oh, I don’t know, calling an ambulance, you decide to make me an accomplice to your crime?”

“I panicked!” Adrien cried. “Someone probably already saw me inside, I don’t need to draw any more attention to myself. Can you imagine if cops and an ambulance showed up? They’ll have to question me, I was the only witness.”

“You weren’t just a witness, you’re the perpetrator,” Nino pointed out.

“You’re not helping!”

The girl groaned and threw a hand over her eyes, shielding them from the bright headlights. She muttered something neither boy could quite catch. Adrien held a single finger in front of his mouth, signaling Nino to stay quiet.

“What happened?” the girl pushed her hair from her face, still watching Adrien with that weird look on her face that she’d had earlier. Sure, Adrien was used to plenty of people staring, but they usually looked happy or excited. But this girl, she just looked…confused. Not necessarily about the situation, but specifically about him.

“You fainted,” Adrien spoke gently. The last thing he wanted was for her to be afraid of him or to dislike him, though in the past few minutes she had been given plenty of reasons to want nothing to do with him. “You might have a concussion. Can we take you to a hospital?”

The girl backed up even further into the wall, which was almost impossible. “No, I… I’ll be in huge trouble, can you just take me back to my hotel?”

“I can’t leave you in good conscience like this. You hit your head really hard.”

Her expression dropped completely, going from confused to annoyed in an instant. “Oh, did I really? I didn’t notice.”

“Let me make it up to you,” Adrien insisted. “I can get you some painkillers and give you some time to rest and work off the headache, and then I’ll bring you right back. We won’t involve any hospitals or police or anyone. Okay?”

“…Okay,” she said finally.

Adrien offered his hand once again. This time, the girl was hesitant, taking hold of his grasp much less firmly than before. She wobbled only slightly upon standing, which was a welcomed improvement. Adrien didn’t fail to notice how quickly she pulled away once she was standing, either.

“It’s okay, take your time,” Adrien felt the odd impulse to put his hand on her shoulder or back just to make sure she didn’t fall over again, but she seemed to be making her way towards the car just fine without him. She really wasn’t helping with his endless guilt trip.

He knelt down and picked up her bag and everything that had fallen, hoping to make some kind of positive impression. No doubt she wouldn’t be too impressed by the basic act of chivalry – after all, if you have the nerve to seriously injure someone, the least you can do is pick up their things for them – but Adrien figured any small action would help lower the tension of the situation.

“What did you do with Chloe?” Adrien asked, only just now noticing that Nino had listened after all, and the other girl was nowhere to be seen.

“I sent her on ahead in a cab,” Nino shrugged. “Hopefully she’s not too pissed at you later.”

The girl tensed up suddenly and gasped.

“I can’t believe I almost forgot. My friend, Alya,” she said. “She’s still inside. I can’t leave her.”

Of course. One more fantastic thing to add to the pile of perfection that was tonight.

“Can’t you call her?” Nino asked the obvious.

“We didn’t get international service,” the girl shook her head. “The call won’t go through.”

Nino and Adrien exchanged a look. The funny thing about their friendship was that, even without saying a word, both boys could sense what the other was thinking. Their first thought – international service? The second thought was more of a request on Adrien’s part, one more thing that he would owe Nino big time for.

“No,” Nino said immediately. “Absolutely not.”

Adrien pleaded silently, doing his best beggar hands and sad frown.

Nino groaned. “What does your friend look like?” he said to the girl, making a point not to look at her.

“My height, red hair, glasses, probably on her phone” she paused to think. “She was wearing a really short black dress and heels.”

Adrien winked at Nino, who was already eyeing the front of the building, ready to go.

“The things I do for you, Agreste,” he dropped the car key into Adrien’s hand before turning on his heel and leaving the alleyway.

The girl watched Nino leave with that same terrified expression that she couldn’t seem to shake. She probably wasn’t too enthused to be left alone with Adrien again. He silently promised himself he’d take special care not to cause any more harm.

He walked to the car and opened the passenger side door – one last small act of kindness couldn’t hurt, could it?

“After you,” he said.

He could not be serious.

Adrien stood at the car’s side, stubbornly and silently holding the door open for her. He didn’t even look mildly concerned. As if it were completely okay to just welcome a stranger into your (very expensive-looking) car and take them on mysterious joyrides. Was she the only sane person in this weird country? Nothing about this situation was okay.

Then again, she didn’t exactly have too many options. The pressure behind her eyes grew more painful by the minute. If Mme. Césaire even found out that she and Alya had left the hotel, they’d be toast.

Reluctantly, Marinette slid into the passenger seat and buckled herself in. Adrien was ever so kind enough to close her door for her. He made his way around the vehicle, sat behind the wheel, and turned the key in the ignition.

They pulled away from the alley and down a street that was just a little too empty for Marinette’s comfort. Of course, he’d know which routes to take to avoid the most people. Adrien was a decent driver as well, taking care to avoid the potholes and stay exactly at the speed limit. His fingers tapped the wheel with a nervous energy. His mouth opened and closed as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words for the situation.

“Sorry for, um, fainting on you like that,” Marinette started.

“I should be the one apologizing,” Adrien looked relieved that he didn’t have to be the one to speak up first. “Besides, I’m used to people falling for me, maybe just not so literally.”

The regret was immediately visible on his face. One glance at Marinette and he sputtered and tried, unsuccessfully, to backpedal the conversation.

“I’m sorry, that was the wrong thing to say,” he winced. “I just assumed from the pictures and the way that you’re acting that you were a fan. They usually like when I make jokes like that, so-”

“I know it might be hard to believe, but I’m not one of your admirers,” Marinette blurted out. “And I’m still dazed from my massive head injury, so I’m not exactly feeling like myself right now. My friend Alya was the one who showed me your pictures that I ended up sketching. And sure, she’d probably be falling all over you if she were the one who ran into you. Me, on the other hand? I barely even know who you are.”

The car had stopped at a red light. Adrien stared straight ahead, unblinking and silent. Was he upset? Angry? He had started to get just a little annoying, but now, Marinette wished he would say something. A full thirty seconds had passed and he was still quiet.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. I’m just…scared,” Marinette could feel prickling behind her eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was from the headache or if she was tearing up from her frustration. “I’m stuck in an unfamiliar place with a strange boy who is being way too nice to me and I don’t really know how to feel about all of it.”

“No, I get it,” Adrien said gently. “It’s weird. We don’t need to talk if you don’t want to.”

Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. It was still frustrating that he was being so nice, but it was also much appreciated. The last thing she needed was to be stranded out here completely alone. At least she had some kind of solace with him here.

“Wait, one more thing,” he said.

Well that didn’t last long.

“You never told me your name.”

“You never asked,” she said, making clear that her sarcasm was more light and witty than rude. “It’s Marinette.”

“Marinette,” he pronounced the first syllable correctly, unlike most people here, like mahr rather than mair. “That’s really pretty. That’s my last unsolicited comment, I swear.”

He kept his vow of silence this time around, making driving his top priority.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty, then thirty. The bright lights of the city had long disappeared in the distance. After a while, Marinette couldn’t tell what direction they were facing anymore, what with all of the various back roads and unnecessary turns they’d done to avoid suspicion. They’d been in the car for what felt like ages. On the bright side, at least her headache was going away. Of course, being out of a moving vehicle would help ease her pain a lot more. She wanted to try something. “Adrien?” his name felt strange on her lips.

“Yes?” he asked, a bit too excitedly. Marinette’s heartbeat increased ever so slightly.

Part of her had wished that he wouldn’t respond, that he wouldn’t confirm once again that he was indeed really here in the flesh. She wanted to believe that she was still in the middle of some odd daydream that she couldn’t quite shake herself from. Instead, every minute their conversation continued on solidified the fact that she was really here, that he was really here, and that they were just chatting like none of this was a big deal at all.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You look pale.”

“No, I just had a question,” it was only partially a lie. “So… do you have your own private hospital wing or something?”

Adrien laughed. The joyful sound coming from him was refreshing. At least he’d finally stopped with the run on sentences and panicking. “No, I can’t say I do.”

“Really? Nothing like that at all? I would have suspected someone like you to have all sorts of resources at your fingertips.” She was exchanging sarcastic banter with a celebrity. Who had knocked her unconscious with a door. And then essentially kidnapped her. This was fine.

“Well, I have a personal trainer-“ Of course he does, Marinette thought, “-but I don’t think he’s good with head trauma. Besides, you said you didn’t want to go to a hospital, right?”

“Right. I don’t want anyone to know that I’m out here, I could get in a lot of trouble with someone who was counting on me to be responsible.”

“Well coincidentally enough, I’m trying to avoid trouble right now, too. We’re on the same boat.”

“You’re a superstar, what could you possibly do to get yourself in trouble?” There were plenty of things she could think of from the top of her head, but more than anything, she wanted to know what his answers would be.

“I think injuring an innocent bystander would be enough to get a few bad headlines written about me,” he gave her another apologetic smile.

“Okay, fair point,” Marinette couldn’t help but wonder if her name would be in those headlines too. Or if she didn’t matter enough to be recognized. The front page of the magazine would read: ‘Strange French girl walks headfirst into alley door like an idiot, completely ruins Pretty Boy Adrien Agreste’s entire night’

She risked another glance over at him, taking extra care not to stare. It was still hard to process that he was a real, actual person and not just a picture on a screen or billboard.

Oh god, what was Alya going to say if she found out about this? After screaming for an eternity, she’d probably hound Marinette for every last detail about what he was like in person. She’d only be more determined to keep stalking him around the city for her chance to run into him too. It had only been a day and Marinette was way in over her head about this whole situation, and this was only the beginning. Even once they parted ways tonight, she’d still have to see his face and hear about him constantly. She was never going to get a break.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“Should I slow down?”

“No!” God forbid she have to spend any more time than necessary suffering through this conversation. Her entire body was so tense she felt like she might just pop a blood vessel. “No, just… get us to wherever we’re going so I can get out of your hair.”

Moments later, they pulled into a long driveway. Two other cars were parked outside of a garage, and up a pathway to the left sat a smaller house with a single light on inside. A family practice office, Marinette guessed. Maybe Adrien didn’t have his own personal doctors, but he would know where to find someone who would keep quiet about the situation.

Adrien exited the car first, still taking the time to run to the other side and open Marinette’s door for her again although it was entirely unnecessary.

“Where are we, exactly?” Marinette asked as she stepped out.

“Oh, um…” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “This is my house.”